


Enjolras et ses Lieutenants

by PieceOfCait, ShitpostingfromtheBarricade



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barriere du Maine, Character Study, Don't copy to another site, Enjolras POV, Funsies, Gen, a fresh take on the dominos scene, collab with thepiecesofcait, modern retelling of canon, no in-fic use or description though so, richefeu, scene retelling, the cusp of crack but Not Quite, warning is the barest of lies because there is the word THC and a presumption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieceOfCait/pseuds/PieceOfCait, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShitpostingfromtheBarricade/pseuds/ShitpostingfromtheBarricade
Summary: “Who will speak at Maine?”  Even as he says the words, Enjolras frowns.  It’s the art building, the only one that none of them really have any connections in.  “They’re usually stopping around now for dinner at Richefeu’s, but we don’t have anyone to speak with them.”“What about me?”Enjolras’s eyes narrow at the source of the voice.  “You?”“Me,” Grantaire repeats.A modern retelling of the events of 4.1.6 at the Barrière du Maine featuring artwork by the illustriousThePiecesOfCait.Warnings:none
Comments: 18
Kudos: 97





	Enjolras et ses Lieutenants

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [PieceOfCait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieceOfCait/pseuds/PieceOfCait) not only for beta-reading this but also coming up with the idea for this collaboration in the first place! <3

“So it’s decided: I’ll go to the technical school, Feuilly will talk up the comp sci majors at Glaciere, Combeferre can schmooze with the history and lit majors at Picpus, Bahorel will hit up Estrapade and sway the more athletic student body, Prouvaire will run down to Grenelle-Saint-Honore to talk with the frats, Joly can talk with all the med students at the Dupuytren Center, Bossuet will take a trip down memory lane at Hugo Hall, and Enjolras’ll take Cougourde.”

Courfeyrac’s plan is good—great, even. It truly could not have been designed better, except— 

“Who will speak at Maine?” Even as he says the words, Enjolras frowns. It’s the art building, the only one that none of them really have any connections in. Originally Marius was meant to take it, but given that the youth has been a no-show for the past several meetings Enjolras isn’t particularly optimistic. The art students can be a fickle lot, but with the right persuasion they can also be extremely powerful allies. “They’re usually stopping around now for dinner at Richefeu’s, but we don’t have anyone to speak with them.” 

“What about me?”

Enjolras’s eyes narrow at the source of the voice. “You?”

“Me,” Grantaire repeats.

By himself Grantaire is harmless, but in the context of their organization the dropout has been an endless source of migraines. How does he think he can persuade others to fall in with them when he cannot even convince himself? “You don’t believe in anything.”

“I believe in you.”

Which is great, but the cause is enduring, and Enjolras is mortal. Without Enjolras attached to it, he has little faith in Grantaire’s conviction. “What would you even say?”

“I’ve read Robespierre and Danton and Prudhomme, and I’m familiar with your beloved Social Contract: I could preach for hours of their virtues, and I can win you the support of the art majors.”

Enjolras cocks an eyebrow at the man, crossing his arms. “Be serious.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Grantaire grins. “I’ll be savage with words, fierce with passion: utterly wild.”

For another moment his eyes narrow at the man before him before Enjolras at last concedes. “Fine.” He’s still not confident that the dropout’s dedication will last outside the four walls of the Musain’s meeting room, but it’s better to have someone than no one, and who knows? Grantaire might surprise him. “Hurry, Richefeu’s closes in two hours.”

If he stifles a laugh ten minutes later when Grantaire darts past the window in an 80s spiked jean vest with patches ironed over every inch and cheesy fingerguns, no one else is still there to see it.

Enjolras has been told on multiple occasions how obviously out-of-place he appears on this campus: he walks like a man on a mission, rather than sauntering like a local. One particularly concerned professor once informed him that he goes through life like a man beset on all sides by demons, and Enjolras has always worn that particular descriptor as a badge of pride.

Today his demons have allowed him twenty minutes to get to a location five minutes away. Still in no mood to saunter, he goes through the list of locations he could stop by in the meantime. Most of his friends are too far away, and there isn’t enough time to stop for a meal, but he could use a coffee, and Richefeu’s is quite nearly on the way. In fact, if he plays his cards right, he might even be able to catch Grantaire in action.

The café is close to Maine Hall, the opposite side of campus from his own, so he has never felt particularly compelled to go before now. Still, as he approaches ever closer to the strip of establishments clustered at the edge of campus, he feels himself growing excited. Could it be possible that Grantaire does, indeed, believe in their efforts? Perhaps his really could be the rallying call that pulls this whole thing together.

Unfortunately, it would seem that Enjolras is too late to find out: Richefeu’s Café is nearly empty when he finally arrives at its transparent front, ‘closed’ sign flipped and employees already wiping down the tables. The coffee really would have been an indulgence, he can do without. To have seen Grantaire speaking, though… 

Without looking he’s already nearly passed the windowed front of the pizza place next door when his eye catches on a familiar smattering of patches, and— 

There he is. Grantaire is surrounded by art majors, no doubt; two others join him in the booth as they slowly, reverently, deliberately open a cardboard lid to reveal a large cheese pizza, expressions filled with the kind of ecstasy only THC can deliver.

He doesn’t know how long his face has been pressed up against the grime of the shop window before Enjolras realizes himself, stepping back and recomposing himself once more.

It’s fine. He hadn’t expected better anyway.

(The employee inside the shop, having watched the whole event unfold, certainly hadn’t, and she’s grateful that the stoners seem too engrossed in their spoils to ask what she’s laughing so hard at.)

**Author's Note:**

> To further cherish and express your appreciation for Cait's hands and mind, you should check out her dedicated post [here](https://thepiecesofcait.tumblr.com/post/623820205998669824/i-saw-that-iconic-post-by-everyonewasabird-months)!
> 
> If you would like to cherish me (and I do love being cherished), you can comment below or reach out to me at my [tumblr](http://shitpostingfromthebarricade.tumblr.com)!


End file.
